


To Protect

by orphan_account



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:11:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Michael reaches his emotional limit and Alex is there to pick up the pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Trust is Earned, but reading that one isn't strictly required. This is set sometime in the future - Liz and Max are friends again, but not together yet, and Michael and Alex have decided to take some time apart to work on themselves, so they've stopped hooking up.
> 
> In Trust is Earned, Max gets really sick and Michael assists Kyle with an emergency surgery on him to save his life. This is the fallout from that.

Michael drove towards his airstream, wheel gripped tightly in his hands to prevent them from shaking. 

He supposed he should be proud of himself. When he’d first walked into Max’s house to see him curled up on the floor in pain, he’d stayed calm. 

And when Liz had called Kyle over to examine him, he’d kept himself in check.

When Kyle had told them that Max had appendicitis and needed emergency surgery in his own kitchen, Michael had rolled with it.

When he’d seen Max laid out unconscious on the table in the kitchen, and watched Kyle cut Max open… when he’d seen all the blood, and witnessed the doctor carving his insides out…

…he’d managed.

And then when Max hadn’t woken up in the first hour like he was supposed to… when they’d waited by his bedside hours more, not knowing if he was going to be okay…

… and when he’d finally woken up weak and confused… 

… he’d used the same iron will that had gotten him through years of abuse in the foster system. 

_Don’t blow up, no matter how much it hurts._

_Keep yourself in check, no matter how scared you are._

That’s just what he did. People around town thought he got drunk and got into fights at the Wild Pony because he lacked control, but really, it was just the opposite. 

Those times when he’d put himself in painful situations, in dangerous situations… he got to prove his control over and over again. 

Only this time it hadn’t been his choice. This time he’d had to watch his brother hurting, and that was worse than anything he did to himself.

And Max was his brother in every way that mattered, even down to the way he liked to annoy the man by never admitting he felt that way.

Michael pulled up to his airstream and jumped out, striding towards the door. 

Between all their preparations, and the surgery, and waiting to see if Max was going to wake up… Michael figured he’d probably gotten less than an hour of sleep and it was already well into mid-morning.

Inside, his bed sat unmade just the way he’d left it the day before when Liz had called to tell him something was wrong with Max.

He looked from the bed to his still-shaking hands. If he were smart, he’d take a deep breath, lay down, and try to finally get some rest.

But every time he blinked he could see Max’s blood… Max’s insides being cut with a scalpel while he lay slack-faced and unaware. 

It was their lifelong nightmare come true in vivid detail.

Everyone who knew them always assumed that Max was the protector of the group. He was the cop, the one who acted like the older brother, the responsible one.

But he knew different.

Michael was the one who protected Max and Isobel. He’d kept them safe from the knowledge of just how bad foster care could be. He was the one who buried bodies and took blame. He was the one who acted like the town asshole so no one would look at him too closely. No one would bother trying to get close.

That way, if Izzy or Max lost control, he could take the fall without hurting anyone else. 

Except that he couldn’t protect Max from his own fucking body. He hadn’t even realized that they could _get_ appendicitis. 

And it’d almost killed Max.

Michael grabbed the nearest object - a coffee mug - and threw it as hard as he could, watching it shatter against the back wall of the trailer.

It wasn’t enough.

He started grabbing every breakable object in sight, throwing them against walls, kicking them across the floor, shoving them off surfaces. 

When he ran out of things to destroy, he opened his cabinets and started again. And when he had nothing left that wasn’t broken, he found himself kicking the cabinet under his sink over and over.

Until the wood gave with a crack, his foot going all the way through it.

He ripped his foot back, still angry, but still perfectly in control.

Not that it mattered…

He looked around, eyes tracing the destruction. 

All the control in the world couldn’t stop the pain. He was helpless, just like he’d always been.

_Fucking useless._

He dropped to his knees and doubled over, choking and gasping for breath. 

When push came to shove, Kyle-fucking-Valenti had stepped in to save Max.

And despite how much he’d supposedly changed, Michael wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive him for the asshole he’d been in high school. For the things he’d said…

Michael started as the door to the airstream swung open.

“Guerin, what the hell?” came Alex’s voice.

Of-fucking-course the last person he’d want to witness his spectacular breakdown would decide to visit him in the middle of the day.

After doing their back-and-forth dance until neither of them could take it anymore, they’d decided to take a step back. Alex had suggested, without any condemnation, that maybe Michael should date other people while he took some time by himself to come to terms with a few things.

And Michael had agreed because what else could he do? It’d been obvious that Alex had some stuff to work through, and he’d made it pretty clear that he didn’t want Michael around while he did it.

So Michael had nodded and pretended not to care either way. 

But he hadn’t started dating other people. He hadn’t been able to do that since Alex had come back into town. 

He knew Alex still wasn’t through working on himself, but lately the two of them had been socializing in public, usually at the Wild Pony. Just a friendly game of pool here and there, or a couple of beers. 

It was never anything intimate. Half the time Liz or Maria, or someone else would join them. 

Alex never came to his trailer. Not anymore.

“Damn it, Guerin, answer me!”

“M’fine.”

In the process of straightening his back, he noticed that his cheeks were wet. He lifted a hand to wipe at them, but Alex stopped him, grabbing his wrist.

“You can’t- you’ve got glass in your hand.”

Huh. He did. Michael stared dumbly at his hand for a second before lifting the other one. It, too, was dotted with blood from dozens of tiny shards.

But that didn’t explain the little red puddle under his knees. 

The next thing he knew, Alex had grabbed hold of his upper arm and was trying to tug him upright.

“Work with me here. I can’t lift you.”

Michael lurched to his feet, immediately reaching out a hand to steady himself when the world dimmed and dipped for a second. But instead of the counter he was expecting to find, Alex inserted himself under his arm, steadying him.

As he was escorted slowly out of the airstream and into the sunshine, it occurred to him that all his adrenaline seemed to have drained away. 

He felt like an empty shell.

He wasn’t sure whether or not that was an improvement.

Alex pushed him into a lawn chair and then disappeared.

When he came back, he’d somehow managed to find a wet cloth, and started gently wiping the glass shards off Michael’s hands.

“Guerin, I need to know what you took. Guerin!”

The world was a little fuzzy, all except for the place where Alex's hands were holding his own. That part was in perfect focus, so he stared at it.

“Guerin, what fucking drug did you take?”

Alex’s voice finally penetrated the fog enough for Michael to realize what he was asking.

“I… I didn’t. It was Max…”

Alex disappeared again then reappeared with a handful of napkins. 

Michael closed his eyes when Alex leaned in to wipe his face. It felt… intimate. He thought they weren’t doing that anymore.

But then Alex was shaking his shoulder, and shoving napkins into each hand.

“Grab these. Come on, make a fist because I don’t have bandages in my truck.”

Michael obeyed, eyes still closed.

Dimly, he became aware that Alex was talking to someone else, but he no longer cared who was around. Let the whole town come out and see him.

Then Alex was tugging on his arm again, and Michael opened his eyes. No one else was around.

“Come on, I can’t get you cleaned up here.”

After sitting in the chair for however-long, standing hurt. His knees stung, his hands ached. 

Alex came under his arm again and they went over to Alex’s truck. Michael was tucked into the passenger seat, and then they were driving. 

Michael stared out the window, watching the desert scenery race by, wondering if he’d finally passed out and started dreaming.

It wasn’t bad, as far as dreams went.

The truck stopped in front of a cabin that Michael had never seen before. So definitely a dream.

Alex helped him out, led him inside, and pushed him down onto a couch. 

“Hey, I need to take the glass out of your knees, okay? It’s not gonna feel great.”

Michael shrugged. Life never did. Not for people like him.

He must’ve spaced out - or was he still dreaming? - because now Alex had a bowl and a couple of towels on the table and he was leaning over, picking at Michael’s knees.

Michael groaned, closing his eyes as he felt a sharp painful tug followed by fire racing up his leg.

“Almost done.” Alex intoned gently.

A couple more sharp tugs, and then he was pressing a towel to his knee before moving on to the next one.

“Hold the towel there, but don’t press too hard. I’m not sure I got them all.”

Once both knees were done Alex stood, once again tugging Michael up with him. 

“Guerin, you need to take your pants off so I can make sure all the glass is out. Can you do that?”

Michael scoffed, fumbling with his belt. 

When the belt wouldn’t cooperate, Alex gently pushed his hands out of the way and did it himself.

It should’ve turned him on, standing right in front of Alex with his pants around his ankles. Gazing into his eyes.

But instead he just felt empty. And all the more lonely knowing, even through the haze he was in, that none of this was real. 

It was _real_ ; Michael understood now that it wasn’t a dream - the pain in his knees had proven that. But it wasn’t where he and Alex were at right now. Alex didn’t want him like that. Not anymore.

Apparently he wasn’t empty of tears, though, because the room started swimming and he had to look away.

Alex pressed on his shoulder, and Michael sank back onto the couch, allowing the other man to finish checking him for glass. 

He produced bandages from somewhere, winding them around each knee and then each hand. 

And Michael just felt stupid.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex sighed, taking a sip of his tea as he regarded the man asleep on the couch. 

When Guerin hadn’t shown up at the Wild Pony the night before, Alex had wanted to shrug it off. After all, Guerin had made quite a reputation for himself in town as someone who couldn’t be relied on. Someone who didn’t bother to call when plans changed. Someone who didn’t really give a shit about anything.

Except Alex knew him better than that. He knew it was all an act.

And especially lately… lately they’d been working on becoming something like friends. Something that he hoped would be a foundation for what could come later.

Because he was tired of letting his dad get inside his head. He was tired of letting his past ruin his future.

He’d asked Guerin for space so that he could concentrate on untangling the absolute mess his heart had become without risking hurting anyone else in the process.

And he wasn’t done yet, but he’d stopped completely cutting himself off from everyone - which had been his first step - and he’d started being social again.

And even though he knew it was probably weird for Guerin, he never failed to show up when Alex mentioned playing pool or getting drinks. He still sometimes looked at him with that look… that look that made him feel like he was the only one in the room, but Guerin had also started letting his walls down a little around other people. He’d laugh at a joke Maria made, or jokingly make fun of Max with Liz.

It still wasn’t completely comfortable… trying to actually reconnect with people in a meaningful way after having been so cutoff from everyone for so many years…

… but Alex knew the results would be worth it in the end.

So he’d stayed and had a nice time hanging out with Maria. He’d convinced himself that Guerin had just been running late, and hadn’t thought to let them know.

Towards the end of the night, though, he’d looked at the time and wondered where Guerin was that he hadn’t shown up at all.

It’d still been on his mind this morning, when he’d decided to drive by the airstream, just to make sure everything was all right.

He’d braced himself, knowing he was going to feel really stupid if he showed up and found out Guerin had spent the night with company. He was the one who’d encouraged him to date other people, after all.

But he’d figured… this was part of making himself a better person, right? If he stopped by Guerin’s place and found him with somebody else, he’d be mature about it. He’d tell him to invite whoever it was out to drinks with them next time.

Guerin deserved to be happy.

But when he’d pulled up to see the door to the airstream standing ajar, Alex had immediately gone over to investigate, a feeling of dread overtaking him.

The scene had taken his breath away. 

The inside of the trailer had been completely destroyed, shards of everything Guerin owned littering just about every surface. The man himself had been on his knees in a puddle of blood, hunched over as if to protect himself.

And he’d been unresponsive, which was scary as hell. Even once he’d managed to move him outside, it was like Guerin was only dimly aware that anything was going on.

He’d sat on a lawn chair, gaze unfocused, bloody hands limp in his lap. His knees were bleeding from a few fairly big shards of glass wedged in them, the blood running halfway down his shins, staining his pants…

He’d tried to get him to name the drug he’d taken, because he obviously wasn’t drunk, and Alex couldn’t think of what else would cause Guerin to so completely… check out… like that.

Then he’d tried calling Max but Liz had answered, explaining that Max was sick and she was taking care of him. She’d even told him that Guerin had been with them all night, having only left in the morning after not really getting any sleep.

But this was a hell of a lot more than exhaustion Alex was seeing.

So Alex had taken Guerin back to his cabin.

He’d gotten him cleaned up and bandaged, made him drink a little water, then he’d brought out a blanket so he could rest on the couch.

And the man had fallen asleep almost immediately.

Before he could mull it over anymore in his mind, the man in question twisted on the couch, grimacing and muttering something under his breath.

Alex set his mug down and leaned forward, debating whether or not he should try to wake him. 

“NO!” Guerin jack-knifed up, screaming.

His years in the service had taught Alex better than to surprise a man just waking from a nightmare.

“Guerin,” he called softly, “it’s fine. You’re safe.”

He was still sitting up, panting and looking around wildly, though not appearing to really see anything.

“You’re okay, man.”

“No… Max… they-they…”

Alex raised his voice to try to get through to him. “Guerin, Max is fine. You’re fine. Everybody’s fine.”

Guerin shuddered, moving to bring his hands up to his face, but then stopping suddenly, looking down at the bandages on his hands in confusion.

Alex could see the moment Guerin tensed, probably realizing he wasn’t just waking up from a bad dream inside his airstream. 

He waited as Guerin looked around, taking in the cabin and finally, resting his eyes on Alex.

“You with me?” Alex asked.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to answer that.”

“I came by the airstream this morning and found the place wrecked. You were bleeding, so I brought you back here to patch you up.”

“What time is it?”

“Just past noon. You’ve only been asleep a couple hours.”

Guerin loosed a shaky sigh, then started to pat himself down as if he were looking for something. When he got to his bottom half under the blanket, he looked at Alex sharply.

“My pants?”

“In the dryer. They were pretty bloody, so I washed them.”

“Need my phone,” he muttered, still searching his immediate area.

“Sorry, it wasn’t on you when I found you.” Alex grabbed his phone from the side table and slid it across the coffee table towards the couch. “You can use mine if you want.”

The way Guerin looked at him, Alex wasn’t sure if he was debating his sincerity, or just trying to decide how badly he needed a phone.

Finally, he grabbed it and dialed a number. When the call connected, Alex was impressed at how _even_ Guerin managed to make his voice. He didn’t sound at all like he’d just awoken from a terrible dream.

“Hey, how’s he doing?” A pause. “Huh, well that’s Max for you. Yeah, no, I’m fine. I’ve _been_ sleeping. Ha. Yeah, will do. Tell Max I said Tolstoy sucks. Thanks, Liz.”

He set the phone back on the coffee table and glanced towards Alex before glancing away again almost immediately.

“So uh… how long until my pants are done?”

Alex frowned. “A while. I just put them in. Why, you cold?”

“Nah, I just figured I’d get out of your hair, you know?”

“Right…. Well, as long as you’re awake, mind if I check your knees?”

Guerin shrugged, as if trying to appear unaffected. “Go nuts.”

Alex limped over to the coffee table, and sat down. Guerin stayed right where he was on the couch, but he pulled the blanket up, leaving himself exposed from the knee-down.

“Damn,” he whispered, looking at the bloody bandages.

“Yeah, damn is right. I think we’d better change them. See if you’re still bleeding.”

His left knee was okay. The cuts were more shallow and had already clotted pretty well. His right still had one deep cut that looked like it might not be closing very well on its own.

“I think you might need stitches,” Alex muttered, carefully pressing a piece of gauze to the area, and slowly winding another bandage around his knee.

Guerin snorted. “Figures.”

Alex couldn’t figure out what the expression on his face meant, so he let it go.

“And I don’t think you should leave yet.”

“Alex…”

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

Guerin shrugged again. “Not a lot, but I just woke up from a nap so…”

“Yeah, bringing your grand total to about two hours. Besides, I drove you here in my truck, so you can’t just leave whenever you feel like.”

The corner of Guerin’s mouth lifted. “You kidnapping me, airman?”

And finally, finally, that expression was pure Guerin again. Alex felt the relief all the way down to his five remaining toes.

“Maybe.”

In the end, he managed to convince him to have a little food and then go back to sleep. It hadn’t even been that hard to do since Guerin had nearly drifted off while eating the stew Alex had reheated for him.

Once he was out, though, Alex retreated back to his bedroom and shut the door. He had a call to make.

Max answered his own phone this time, greeting him in a raspy voice.

“Hey, man. You really do sound sick. You okay?”

“Yeah, just got a stomach bug. Throwing up is no fun, but it’ll pass.”

“Well from what I hear you’ve got Liz keeping you company so…” Alex trailed off suggestively. It was no secret that Max had had a thing for Liz since forever.

“Yeah… it’s uh…it’s nice.”

Alex chuckled at Max’s voice. He could almost hear him blushing over the line. 

“So I’ve got a question for you…” He hesitated, not sure how to broach the subject now that he had Max on the phone. “… it’s about Guerin.”

“Liz told me you were with him. I know he didn’t really sleep last night so…”

“Max,” Alex paused. “dude, he’s more than tired.” Alex considered telling Max about the nightmare but couldn’t imagine Guerin being happy about that. He wasn’t eager to lose what little trust the other man might still have in him.

“Here’s the thing… he broke some glass in his trailer and tore up his knees pretty bad. I think he might need stitches, and I know he’s got this phobia when it comes to doctors… I don’t know, man. I just thought maybe you might know a way to convince him to get it checked out.”

“Is he okay? How bad is it?”

“I bandaged his knees, he’s fine, man. There’s just one cut that looks a little deep. I don’t think it’s going to heal right without stitches.”

Alex had to take a couple deep breaths. This whole situation reminded him too much of the last time he’d seen Guerin hurt. He didn’t think he’d gone to the doctor then, either. And his hand had never been the same.

Which was a stupid comparison because the knee would heal… it wasn’t like Guerin wouldn’t be able to walk or anything. It’d just take a lot longer and leave a bigger scar.

But honestly, he was tired of Guerin being left with scars.

He heard Max sigh over the line. “There’s one doctor Michael might let near him.”

“You don’t sound too sure of that…”

“I’m not. He’s not…it’s Kyle. He’s not Michael’s favorite person, but I think he might trust him enough to let him look at it.”

That wasn’t what Alex had been expecting at all. “Kyle Valenti? Really?”

“Yeah, I know he’s not your favorite person either. Hell, I can’t say I was ever a fan of his… but he came by to check on me yesterday, and he wasn’t an asshole about it. He’s not the same guy he was in high school.”

“No, I know. He and I… we’re not friends, but we’ve come to a sort of… understanding. I’m just surprised Guerin would trust him.”

“Well I wouldn’t say Michael trusts him. He’s just… I don’t know. I think he’s your best bet.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. I’ll talk to Guerin about it. Feel better soon, okay?”

After they hung up, Alex laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Kyle Valenti? He knew he wasn’t the same guy he’d been in high school, but he just couldn’t imagine Guerin, of all people, trusting him. It just didn’t fit.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael gasped, eyes flying open. 

People dressed all in white, masks over their faces, had been cutting Max open. Isobel had been tied up in the corner, screaming into a gag. And Michael had been right there… witnessing everything, but unable to move, unable to help.

He’d been paralyzed.

And no matter how hard he’d tried to open his mouth and scream, he couldn’t.

He sat up, trying to shake the remnants of the dream from his head. Looking around the cabin, it was hard to tell how long he’d been asleep this time - there were no clocks or electronics anywhere. Judging by how exhausted he felt, though, it hadn’t been long.

Hopefully there was a bathroom because he needed to pee.

Michael tossed his blanket aside, and stared down at his knees. 

More blood. 

He made himself look away, bracing himself as he swung his legs off the couch and onto the floor.

He hissed. His knees hurt like hell… he didn’t think he could bend them at all.

He scooted closer to the arm of the couch and used it to brace himself, standing up as best he could without bending his knees.

“Damn…” he muttered.

And as soon as he put weight on his legs his right foot let him know that it hadn’t forgotten being kicked through a cabinet hours before. He looked down at his sock-covered feet… where the hell were his boots, anyway?

There wasn’t much around to lean on, so he went slow, walking like Frankenstein with a limp.

The living room opened to a tiny kitchen, and from there he only saw one closed door…

… so this was either a one-bedroom cabin with the bathroom inside the bedroom, or there were no bedrooms and the bathroom was currently occupied. 

He leaned against one of the kitchen chairs, trying to decide if he wanted to knock, or if he should just cut his losses and flee into the surrounding desert.

… _slowly limp_ into the surrounding desert.

… and piss himself.

He sighed, and started towards the door.

It opened in front of him just as he raised his hand to knock, and he stumbled back half a step in surprise.

They spoke at the same time. 

“Guerin, what are you-”

“I need a bathroom.”

Alex stepped back into what Michael could now see was a small bedroom.

“It’s in here, come on.”

His eyes wandered without his permission, taking in the room, looking for pieces of Alex.

But there didn’t seem to be any. At least not that he could tell. This space didn’t look like what he imagined Alex’s room would - of course, how would he know? He’d never been invited into any of Alex’s bedrooms before.

Alex was waiting for him when he emerged from the tiny bathroom, more bandages in hand.

“You rob a hospital or something?”

The corner of Alex’s mouth lifted a fraction. “This used to be Valenti’s hunting cabin. He kept a surprisingly good first aid kit.”

Michael was about to make a smart comment about using decades old bandages, but he was distracted by a tickle on his shin and looked down to see that the bandage covering his right knee had begun to leak blood down his leg.

He closed his eyes involuntarily, bracing himself against the bedroom dresser as visions of Max’s blood running down the side of his body filled his mind.

Alex grabbed his elbow, concern lacing his voice. “You okay?”

He opened his eyes and started forward again. “Yeah, fine.” He cleared his throat. “Probably better to fix me up out there, right?”

Alex followed him back out to the living room without answering.

Alex being concerned, taking care of him, letting him into his bedroom… the whole thing made him uneasy. He’d spent the last however-many months just trying to get used to all the empty space between them all the time, and now Alex was right next to him.

It was confusing.

And honestly, because Michael was honest with himself even when he wasn’t with anyone else, it hurt. If Alex wanted space, he’d give him space. But it wasn’t fair to ask for space and then get so close.

“Why are you limping?”

Michael raised his eyebrows at Alex as he eased himself down onto the couch - carefully, and without bending his knees, which was a feat in itself.

“My knees are cut up, man.”

“No, you were favoring your right foot.” Alex stared down at his socked feet as if he could x-ray them with his eyes.

“Seriously? What does it matter? I was kicking shit.” Michael took a minute to breathe because he was exhausted and in pain and really didn’t want to take it out on Alex when they’d been doing so well before today.

“Sorry, look… I’m not… can we just get on with the bandaging and call it a day?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex sat on the coffee table and handled the bandaging while Michael relaxed back and stared at the ceiling again.

“I never knew the sight of blood bothered you, Guerin.”

“It doesn’t. Not usually, anyway.”

Michael was sure he was going to ask, but instead Alex surprised him by changing the subject entirely.

“So I spoke to Max a little while ago.”

Michael eyed him, suddenly suspicious. Not because he’d spoken to Max; he knew Alex and Max had been friends for years. But the way Alex had brought it up made it pretty clear that this was a prelude to something else.

“He thinks you might let Kyle stitch you up.”

Michael groaned. “Of course he does.”

“Guerin, you need stitches. You’re bleeding through all my bandages.”

“Sorry to be such an inconvenience,” he griped. He knew he was being an asshole, and he didn't want to fight - he was so tired and ready to be done with this day.

“Damn it, Guerin, will you stop turning everything in to something it’s not for a minute please?”

Michael leaned forward, suddenly feeling like maybe he had the energy to fight after all. “Sure, just as soon as you tell me exactly what this _is_. Because I know we agreed to stop this…” Michael waved a hand in the air “… _thing_ between us. And I’m pretty sure visiting my place, and taking me to your place, and acting like - whatever _this_ is - are all well within the ‘not doing this’ area.”

“Is it that hard for you to let someone care about you?”

Michael scoffed. He wanted to retort that no one ever had, but that wasn’t true. Still, he could count the people who cared about him on one hand.

And anyway, they were getting way off-topic.

“You hate Kyle.”

Alex blinked, and it seemed to take him a second to catch up with the sudden shift in conversation.

“He was a dick in high school, but we’re grownups now, and… he’s less of a dick.”

Michael chuckled. “Wow, less of a dick. That’s a hell of an endorsement. You should add that to his yelp page.”

“Guerin, it’s either Kyle or I drive you down to the hospital.”

“First, the hospital is not happening. I’ll crawl through the desert right back to my airstream. And second, you’d really let Kyle come here to your secret cabin hideaway?”

Alex shrugged. “He’s been here before. It was his dad’s cabin.”

That’s right, he’d mentioned it being Valenti’s hunting cabin earlier. “How’d you end up with it again?”

“His dad left it to me. He knew me as a kid and it was like his way of… I don’t know…he just figured I’d need it more than Kyle, I guess.”

“Fine, you know what? Whatever. Go ahead and call him. Just don’t blame me if he starts something.” 

He thought a minute, considering what was about to happen. “You don’t happen to have any shorts here, do you?”

Thankfully, Alex did have a pair of shorts for him so he wouldn’t have to see Kyle in his underwear. Kyle may have seen all there was to see of Max, but Michael was not about to get the same treatment.

Kyle must’ve taken the day off after working on Max the night before, because he was at the cabin within the hour.

“What time is it, anyway? There are no clocks in here.” Michael asked, as Alex moved to the door to let Kyle in.

“Two. You slept all of an hour the second time.”

“Trouble sleeping?” Kyle asked, stepping into the cabin.

“Nah. I feel great.” Without even looking he knew Alex was rolling his eyes.

“So you fell in some glass?” Kyle had already put on gloves and was cutting off the bandages on one knee.

Alex had called Kyle from the bedroom, so he was fairly sure he’d already told Kyle all about his injuries. “Pretty much, yeah. Am I gonna live, doc?”

“Your left knee looks okay… you probably won’t want to bend it very much so the cuts don’t reopen, but I can disinfect and rewrap it and you should be good.”

Before Michael could even turn to Alex with an ‘I-told-you-so’ look, Kyle pulled both his socks off and started to examine his feet. “I see your right foot is bruised to hell.”

So Alex had told Kyle about the limp too. Great.

“Is that a technical term, doctor?”

Kyle ignored him, rotating his foot in his hand and pressing in various locations.

“Ow, fuck. The purple parts hurt - did they not teach that in med school?”

“Sorry, trying to make sure it’s not broken. Just a couple nice bruises, I think.”

Kyle proceeded to remove the bandages from his right knee and examine the deeper cut.

“This definitely needs stitches.”

Michael let his head fall back onto the sofa. “Great.”

“No, not great. Especially without adequate pain relief, which reminds me…” Kyle started digging into the bag he’d brought.

“Hold on,” Michael interrupted, before Kyle could pull out the nail polish remover that he was sure was in the bag. 

He glanced over to where Alex was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. As soon as Michael met his eyes, he started to get up.

“I’ll wait in the room.”

It wasn’t fair that Kyle knew their secret and Alex didn’t, but this was not the way he wanted Alex finding out.

He’d actually thought about telling him plenty of times when they were still hooking up. But it seemed like every time he’d figured out how he’d say it, they’d be pushing each other away again. He figured if it ever leveled out, he’d rather Alex know his secret than not.

They just hadn’t leveled out yet. Maybe they never would. 

As soon as the bedroom door quietly shut, Kyle pulled out the nail polish remover. “Do you know what your dosage is for this stuff?”

Michael snorted. “Yeah. I generally drink until it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. That’s how I know when to stop.”

“Any side effects?” 

“It’s kinda like being drunk.”

“Great. Well here you go.” Kyle handed him the bottle. “Drink as much as you need to, but you get to explain to Alex why you’re acting drunk if you over do it.”

“You only brought one? Really?”

Kyle tossed two more bottles into his lap. “Can we get started now? How quickly does it take affect?”

Michael cracked open the first bottle to start chugging it. “It’s almost immediate. Go for it.”

Michael felt immediate relief - he’d been in pain all morning. But then he felt the needle pierce his skin and choked a little, realizing he needed to drink a lot more if this was what stitches felt like.

Two bottles in and he still felt a shock of pain that raced all the way up his leg every single time Kyle pulled the needle through his skin. 

By the time it was over, Michael was sweating like he’d run a marathon, and he’d drank so much acetone that the ceiling looked a little wobbly.

It probably didn’t help that he’d had very little sleep.

“You’re gonna want to keep this clean - keep the bandage on for at least a week. I’ll come find you in twelve days or so to evaluate the cut and see if you can lose the stitches, then… are you even listening?”

Michael snorted, still staring up at the ceiling. “You talk a lot.”

“Got it. I’ll give these instructions to Alex then.”

Michael closed his eyes, happy that it was over. The room was swaying a little, but it felt gentle, like a hammock - something he could fall sleep to.

Suddenly his eyelids weighed a ton each, and it was too much effort to try to open his eyes anymore so he just let himself drift.

The last thing he felt was hands pushing his upper body down onto the cushion, and moving his legs from the table to the couch.


	4. Chapter 4

_A mountain range in France, eight letters._

Alex flipped the page and skipped to another crossword puzzle. He really needed to get a TV set up out here, even if he just connected it to a DVD player to watch movies.

He supposed he’d need to get some DVD’s too…

There was a knock at the door, saving him from ‘ _a Shakespearean form of address, 4 letters_ ’

“Come in.”

Kyle entered wearing his doctor face.

“Michael’s down for the count so I figured I’d give you his care instructions since I doubt he heard a word I said.”

Alex nodded, not really sure what he was supposed to say. It’s not like Guerin was really his to look after - he hadn’t even been allowed to stay in the room while Kyle had stitched him. Though he figured that probably had something to do with Guerin’s fear of doctors and pain medication. He must’ve thought… what? That Alex would think it was funny? That he’d make fun of him?

It might have been a little petty after ten years, but it annoyed him that of all the doctors in Roswell, Kyle was the one Guerin chose to treat him. And he knew - he _knew_ \- Guerin didn’t like Kyle. It just didn’t make sense.

“The stitches are covered with a bandage. They need to stay dry about 24 hours. After that, he can shower, but not soak. Considering it’s his knee, it’d be a good idea to keep the area covered, so I’m leaving extra supplies for that. He should keep his knees as straight as possible to avoid straining any of those cuts - especially his right knee. I’ll look at maybe removing the stitches in twelve days or so. His right foot is bruised - it might even be a mild sprain - but he won’t be wanting to do much walking anyway, so it should be fine. His hands are fine, too - those cuts were all shallow and they’ve closed well.”

“Are you leaving him anything for the pain? I know he refuses to take most meds…”

“Yeah, I left him something - though he shouldn’t need more for a while, he was thoroughly dosed before he fell asleep. Just have him keep an eye on those cuts. If any of them reopen, start looking infected, or start hurting a lot worse than they do now, he can give me a call.”

“Thanks, Kyle.”

After Kyle left Alex couldn’t help but wonder what he was supposed to do now. Guerin wasn’t going to be able to bend his legs for a while, and there was no way in hell he’d be able to make the three steps up into his airstream without bending his knees. 

He didn’t have any clothes here, hell, he didn’t even want to _be_ here… but where else was he supposed to go? Alex doubted many of Guerin’s possessions had survived his breakdown in the trailer, so even if he _could_ get into it, there’d be nothing there for him.

Alex sighed. There was a slight chance he might be able to convince Guerin to crash on his couch for a while, but there was no way he’d be able to convince him to crash at his place, _and_ wear his clothes.

And Max would normally be his best bet to ask to go to the airstream, pick through the mess, and find Guerin some salvageable clothes, but with Max sick…

He shook his head. What the hell was he doing? He’d be a giant hypocrite if he went behind Guerin’s back and tried to plan his life for him. Guerin was a big boy, he could make his own decisions.

He just hoped he’d choose to stay…

… which, Alex admitted (at least to himself), probably made him a bad person. Because yeah, he’d pushed Guerin away. Not because he hadn’t wanted him around - no matter what the man might think - but because getting caught up with Guerin was too easy. It’d be way too easy to escape into that relationship and never deal with all the other things he needed to deal with. 

And if they were ever going to have a chance at any sort of a future, he needed to get his own shit together. 

But with Guerin hurt… he didn’t feel like he could do anything _but_ help him. If only he’d allow it.

That was a big if.

In an effort to get away from his own circling thoughts, Alex went out to the kitchen to figure out dinner.

By the time Guerin sat up, gasping from his latest nightmare, a previously frozen casserole was halfway done in the oven.

At least he’d gotten another couple hours of rest. If real rest was even possible when you woke up every hour or two with nightmares.

He headed out to claim one of the living room chairs.

“You okay?”

Guerin was sitting up slumped over, head in his hands. “Yeah, great.”

“Come on. What the hell happened, man? And please, _please_ just do me a favor and either tell me, or say it’s none of my business. Don’t say I shouldn’t give a shit. That’s not fair.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Okay.”

Guerin looked up, as if confused by his easy acceptance. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Look, you don’t want to tell me? That’s fine. You want to keep bottling up whatever it is and waking up over and over again, that’s your prerogative. But that’s not going to stop me from asking - and it’s not going to stop me from caring.”

Guerin looked like he didn’t know what to do with that. He swung his legs off the couch and levered himself up. 

“Could I borrow your phone again?”

It was times like these that reminded Alex just how little Guerin ever expected from people. Even something as simple as asking to use a phone - it was like he was always afraid that he was asking for too much. 

“Yeah, of course.” Alex stood and dug the phone from his pocket. “You can go back to the room if you need privacy. Dinner should be ready in half an hour or so.”

“Thanks.” 

 

Michael closed the bedroom door and considered his options. The bed would be most comfortable - he could sit with his back to the headboard and keep his legs stretched out in front of him.

But that would mean _sitting on Alex’s bed._

Instead, he went towards the chair in the corner of the room by the bookcase. He’d have to sit on the edge of it and keep his legs straight, but it was better than being surrounded by Alex’s scent and the feel of Alex’s blankets when he knew very well it was a place he’d never been invited.

“God, you’re so pathetic,” he muttered, settling himself onto the chair.

Max answered on the first ring. “Alex?”

“Nah, it’s me. How you doing?”

“Same as I was earlier today. I’m fine. How are _you_ , though. I heard you got cut up pretty bad. Did you let Kyle fix you up?”

He didn’t think anyone could fix him, but he wouldn’t voice that to Max. “Yeah, good as new. Only problem is that the airstream is a little… wrecked… and now I’m out here at Alex’s place with no clothes, no toothbrush, and I can’t bend my knees for a while.”

Max chuckled. “It’s like a bad country song.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re welcome to come crash with me. Anytime. You know that, right?”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. You’ve got enough of a crowd over there.”

“So stay with Alex, man. I know you guys aren’t….” Max paused as if he were trying to find the right label for the situation between him and Alex “…whatever… right now, but he’s still a friend, right?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Then _make_ it simple.”

Michael scoffed. “Right. Like you’ve made things simple with Liz?”

The man sighed. “Point taken. But I still think you should stay with him if he’s offering - I assume he’s offering.”

“Uh… I don’t actually know. He kind of just brought me here and now he’s just… not taking me back.”

“Well, maybe you need to sit down and… oh, I don’t know… communicate for once?”

“Glass houses, Max, really.”

“Hey, you called _me_. Which reminds me - how about I have Isobel head over to the airstream and grab a few things for you? She could drop them off at Alex’s, or wherever you end up.”

“Nah. Isobel would give me endless shit for the mess. No, thanks. I think I’ve still got a bag of stuff at your place, though, from the last time I was there.”

“That’s right - you do. I can take it by for you tonight.”

“Don’t be an idiot, you just got cut open. Let Liz do it.”

“Fine. She probably wouldn’t have let me drive anyway.”

“Because she’s smarter than you.”

 

The oven dinged, and Alex grabbed the potholders and got the casserole out, setting it aside to cool. 

Then he set the table - which only involved getting out two of everything and took about ten seconds - and then he had nothing to do again.

So he retreated back into the living room.

He was thumbing through the 2001 World Almanac he’d found on one of the shelves when Guerin came back into the room. He half expected him to say he’d found a ride and would be leaving shortly, but instead he just handed the phone back and eased onto the couch. 

“You looking up when you should’ve planted your corn in 2001?”

Alex snorted, tossing the book onto a side table. “Left my crossword puzzles in the room.”

They looked at each other a beat. Guerin looked away first, but broke the short silence with a question. 

“Can we talk after dinner?”

Alex couldn’t quite read the expression on Guerin’s face, especially since he currently appeared to be studying the bookshelf. “Yeah, of course.” 

It was encouraging that he wanted to talk, or at least Alex decided to see it that way. At worst, Guerin would tell him he didn’t want his help and demand to be dropped off somewhere. At best, maybe they’d figure out a way he could help Guerin without ruining what they’d been working on.

But either way, they’d be talking. 

“It smells good. I didn’t know you cooked.”

“Oh, the casserole? I didn’t make it. Liz’s dad is always giving me food when he sees me.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy.” Alex stood. “We could probably eat now… I’m actually not sure what it is - he doesn’t really label anything. But it’s always good.”

Guerin volunteered to wash the dishes after dinner, but his hands were still bandaged, so Alex sent him out to the living room saying, “it’s only two plates, Guerin, relax” and made quick work of it himself.

He was just drying the forks when he looked out the kitchen window and saw a car approaching. The sun was mostly set, and with the glare of the headlights, he couldn’t be sure whose vehicle it was.

Of course, there weren’t many people who visited him out here, and Guerin didn’t even have the address, so unless he’d sent out an SOS to someone with GPS coordinates, it was probably a friend.

He made it to the door just as the person started to knock.

“It’s Liz. Max was gonna send her over with some stuff for me.” Guerin explained from the couch.

He greeted her with a hug and ushered her inside. “How’s Max?”

“He’s good. Not feeling great, obviously, but he’s actually resting for once in his life, so he’ll get better.”

“That’s good. He needs to take it easy more often.”

“Yeah.” She suddenly seemed to remember the duffle bag over her shoulder. 

Turning to Guerin she said, “This is for you.” She set the bag on the floor in front of the couch. “We found your phone at Max’s, so it’s in there along with an extra charger Max found.”

“Thanks for brining it out here.”

“No problem.” She turned back to Alex. “Sorry, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to get back. If not directly supervised, Max tends to try to do too much.”

“No, I get it. Thanks, Liz.”

Once he could hear the car start to pull away, Alex turned to Guerin. “Are they living together or something now?”

Guerin shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

“Huh.” Alex sat down in the same armchair he’d used before dinner. Guerin had said he’d wanted to talk, but he hadn’t said what about. He supposed there were a hundred different things they could talk about, though, so if Guerin wasn’t going to start, he supposed he could.

“So you wanted to talk… you finally going to tell me what happened to give you all those nightmares?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This applies to the whole story, but paricularly going forward - unless otherwise stated in the story, who knows what about the aliens is only accurate to episode 106 or so. And since we don't know yet (as of the writing of this story) how the thing with Isobel is going to play out, I'm assuming that Isobel was not at fault for what happened with Rosa, and sometime later Liz was able to forgive her and they're all friends again. But, as is true in 106, Alex doesn't know about the trio. Yet. But that changes in this chapter. :)

_“So you wanted to talk… you finally going to tell me what happened to give you all those nightmares?”_

Suddenly Michael realized just how damn tired he was. Tired of being in pain, tired of pretending, of trying to be both better and worse than he really was, tired of loving someone who didn’t really know who he was. 

He remembered a conversation he’d had with Isobel months ago - they’d talked about how tired they both were of lying to the people they loved. Isobel had gone on from that conversation to tell Noah their secret. And Michael? He’d gone right back into hiding. 

He leaned against the arm of the couch, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling as if he were relaxed. As if his heart wasn’t actively trying to beat its way out of his chest.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he finally offered.

“Try me,” Alex responded, like Michael knew he would.

He decided to jump in with both feet. “Max had appendicitis and couldn’t go to the hospital so Kyle came over to do a little home surgery. I assisted.” He took a strangled breath. “I had to watch Kyle cutting him up, which, by the way, has pretty much always been our biggest fear.”

The room was completely silent, save for his own ragged breath and the sound of his pounding heart. “See… it’s cause we’re aliens. The three of us. Me, Max, and Isobel. So we couldn’t just take him to the hos-hospital.”

He choked, closing his eyes. “He looked dead. And Kyle was… cutting into him… and the blood… his b-blood was… uh…” Michael paused to try to catch his breath, but it seemed impossible. He’d thought saying it out loud would make him feel lighter, but instead it felt like a giant weight on his chest, crushing him. Grinding him into nothing.

And Alex still hadn’t said a word. 

Abruptly, he wiped his hands down his face and levered himself off the couch, barely aware of what he was doing beyond his growing need to get away. Escape. Hide.

He stumbled to the front door, and was fumbling with the lock when he felt a hand on his back. He could barely hear Alex’s voice over the rushing in his ears.

“Wait. Just… wait a second, okay?” 

His head fell forward to rest against the door. Alex probably thought he was crazy. And he would’ve said as much if he’d been able to speak past the lump currently residing in his throat.

“Hey, come on. Come back to the couch.” Alex wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him over to sit down again. 

Michael flopped down awkwardly, trying not to bend his knees, and Alex eased down beside him then leaned over to lift Michael’s legs up onto the coffee table so they’d stay straight.

Alex wrapped an arm around him again and pulled him close to his side, allowing Michael’s head to come to a rest on his shoulder.

And then he just sat there. Not saying anything while Michael shuddered and wiped at his eyes again.

Eventually, his heartbeat calmed and his world narrowed to the feeling of Alex’s hand gently rubbing his arm.

He sighed, and closed his eyes.

 

He woke up confused on several counts. He was still in the same position on the couch, head on Alex’s shoulder, cocooned safely in the other man’s arms. 

Judging by the soft light coming through the windows, it was morning… meaning he’d slept all night.

Hadn’t he told Alex he was an alien last night? Suddenly Michael wasn’t sure if it’d really happened, or if it’d been a dream. Because this scenario? Waking up in Alex’s arms? This was not how he’d imagined that conversation ending. Ever.

And yet… here he was.

He leaned away carefully, rolling his neck to ease some of the stiffness. As much as he hated to leave the comfort of Alex’s arms - especially since he couldn’t be sure he’d ever be able to enjoy them again - he had to pee.

He’d just pushed himself up, feeling his stupid foot twinge, when Alex woke up.

“Where you going?” he asked, sleep still coloring his voice.

“Bathroom,” he answered. “Back in a sec.”

When he got back Alex was putting his sock and prosthesis back on and wow- he hadn’t even noticed that he’s slept without it. 

Which meant that Alex hadn’t fallen asleep with him on accident - at some point he’d decided he wasn’t leaving and had taken it off to sleep. 

Michael swallowed, not sure how to sort through everything he was feeling. 

He eased down onto one of the chairs near the couch, needing a little space to think. Alex was just too… calm. Too… _normal_ to have just learned that his ex-whatever was an alien. 

“So uh… did we talk last night or was that a dream?”

Alex’s expression was soft and gentle. “You talked, I listened.”

The anxiety was too much. Michael didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he couldn’t take not knowing anymore. 

“That’s it? You’re not shocked? You’re not… freaked out? You’re not… I don’t know… anything besides serene? Really?”

“Of course I’m shocked. I have so many questions that I don’t even know where to start.”

“Then why are you being all…” Michael gestured to the Alex, the couch, and just the room in general “…like that?”

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you, Guerin. All I know is that last night I saw someone I care about falling apart because of a very real, _horrific_ , experience. I know trauma when I see it. It didn’t feel like the right time to ask a bunch of questions.”

“So you just decided to fall asleep and worry about it later?”

“Of course not. I worried about it most of the night. At first I thought maybe you’d had some kind of mental break… I texted Max to tell him that you’d confessed to being an alien because I seriously thought that he might tell me to take you down to the hospital, despite your protests. Instead, he texted, ‘I’m glad he finally told you’ and then I thought maybe _both_ of you were having some kind of mental break.”

Alex sighed, running a hand down his face. “Either that, or _I_ was.”

Michael felt his mind easing a little. Alex thinking he was crazy was a lot closer to the reaction he’d expected. 

“Or,” Alex continued, “maybe it was just true. And that meant that I had to go back and review every single thing I ever thought I knew about you and look at it again in a new light. So no, I didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

Michael sighed. “So what now?”

The ‘what now’ turned out to be breakfast. Alex put on coffee and got out bagels and butter. He offered to make eggs, but Michael didn’t think eating a big breakfast was wise with the heaviness of an impending conversation hanging between them.

Once breakfast was done, Alex started at the most predictable place.

“So the aliens-in-Roswell conspiracy people are right, huh? Did you get here in 1947?”

It was nerve-wracking, but somehow a relief at the same time to tell Alex just how little they knew about themselves. How they’d woken up at age 7 in a cave with no idea what was going on. How they’d wondered all these years if they’d been in incubation for those first 50 years, or if someone had put them there later… if their families had died in the crash or if they’d just left them abandoned and moved elsewhere.

He also told him how they’d started to come into their powers almost right away, but they’d spent years trying to figure out how they worked and, more importantly, how to control them.

“So… you can move objects with your mind? Like… a superhero or something.”

Something caught in Michael’s throat, and he had to clear it before answering. He’d never in all his life been compared to a superhero. 

“Yeah… but it’s not… it was a bit more like Carrie when I was younger, to be honest.”

Alex snorted, and looked at him with a fondness he hadn’t seen in a while. “The ’76 movie or the remake?”

Michael pretended to be disappointed. “The book, dude.”

But he couldn’t help but smile as he looked at Alex. This man was… _everything_ to him. The power of the feeling nearly took his breath away.

“So who else knows? I assume this is why Kyle was willing to make a house call…”

“Yeah, our blood looks human until you get it under a microscope - that’s the real reason hospitals and doctors generally don’t work for me. Kyle only knows because Liz told him when she first found out. Liz knows because she was shot back when she first got back into town and Max used his power to save her.”

“Shit, she was shot? Wait, was that when the diner got shot at?”

“Yeah. Max was there with her at the time, so he was able to help her. But… it exposed him. So…” Michael really didn’t want to spend the day laying out everything that had happened in the ensuing weeks - it was way too much for a Sunday morning. He’d leave Rosa and that whole story for another time.

“So… Liz and Kyle know. And Isobel told Noah a while back because she was tired of her husband not knowing.”

“Wait, they were _married_ and he didn’t know?”

“Yeah, we’ve been so scared our whole lives that we’d be caught and dissected - we never told anyone at all until the day Max saved Liz.”

“Damn,” Alex uttered quietly. “And after years of fearing that, you had to watch Max’s surgery.”

Michael nodded eyes drifting down to the table. He was amazed at how quickly Alex seemed to understand. 

“Hey,” Alex reached out and grabbed his hand. “you’re amazing, you know that?”

He shook his head. “Don’t- don’t say that. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

Alex only squeezed his hand and then they heard a phone start to buzz in the living room. 

“Shit, I think that’s mine,” Michael said, pushing back and trying to get up quickly without bending his knees.

Alex was faster than he was. “I got it.”

He went and grabbed the phone, bringing it back to Michael just as it stopped ringing. It’d been Max.

Michael called him back, unable to stop his mind from immediately wondering if something was wrong.

“Max? What’s up?”

“Hey… uh, I heard you told Alex.”

Michael looked up at Alex from across the table. “Yeah, I told him.”

“So, you guys wanna come over for lunch? It’ll just be me and Liz here, but… I figured we could help if he has questions.”

“Let me ask him.” He pulled the phone back from his ear. “Max wants to know if we want to head to his place for lunch.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Michael told Max they’d be there, and then looked back at Alex when the call disconnected. “Um… Max says he can help answer more questions later so…”

“Yeah, we can take a break. We need to shower anyway.”

Michael stumbled back into the living room, heaving the bag Liz had brought for him onto the couch so he could dig through it. Not only did it contain the various clothing items he’d left at Max’s, but someone had also thrown in a few bottles of acetone for him.

Thank fuck, because his knees ached, his foot ached, his neck ached… his whole damn body felt like a big bruise. 

He uncapped the bottle and took a few swigs, not even stopping to consider what it would look like. At least until he heard Alex’s voice nearby.

“Please tell me that’s not really nail polish remover you’re drinking…”

He thought Alex had gone back to his room to get ready.

“Don’t worry, it’s an alien thing. Acetone is like a pain reliever for us.”

Alex had one hand over his heart. “Okay, shit. Yeah… warn a guy next time. I thought maybe you…”

Michael looked from the bottle to Alex in confusion, and then smirked. “What, you thought I was suddenly suicidal or something?”

Only Alex didn’t laugh. “There was a guy in my unit in Iraq… he drank a bottle of antifreeze once. When things got to be too much…” 

The way Alex trailed off, his eyes focused somewhere in the distance, made Michael feel like complete shit for joking around. He crossed the room to where Alex was and grabbed his elbow.

“I’m sorry for not warning you. I swear, this stuff doesn’t hurt me. Kyle left me some when he came, in fact. So it’s… doctor approved and everything.”

Alex’s eyes refocused on Michael, and it was like flipping a switch suddenly. He shook off whatever memory he’d been lost in and the corner of his mouth tipped up. “No wonder you didn’t want me staying to watch him stitch you up. I would’ve knocked him over the head if I’d seen him give you nail polish remover to drink.”

“See, now you’re making me regret sending you out of the room. I would’ve paid to see you clock him over the head.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I'm glossing over the whole Rosa ordeal with the assumption that it all worked out and it wasn't Isobel's fault. I know there's a whole lot more to the fact that the three of them chose to cover up a murder and implicate Rosa in it - but that's a bigger topic than this story has time for, and it's not the focus. So that's why Alex isn't going to react the way he probably should - let's call this creative license. :)

They didn’t talk much on the way to Max’s, so Alex was able to use the time to just think about everything. _There was a lot._

One thing finally made sense, though. He’d always wondered why Guerin had been so close to the Evans twins - not only in high school, but afterwards. Even after he’d become pretty much the opposite of Max. Even after Isobel had married, and presumably, would have moved on from guys she’d known in high school - guys who’d become barflies.

They were family.

Maybe not blood, at least they had no way to know for sure, but as the only three of their kind that they knew of, they shared a bond that was closer than family in a lot of ways. Suddenly the way Guerin and Isobel would turn up somewhere in public together deep in conversation, made sense. It made sense that Max always seemed frustrated with Guerin’s behavior, but never stopped associating with him.

And the fact that he’d been raised separately, bouncing from home to home while the other two got to pretend to be twins was all the more heart-breaking. 

 

When they pulled up to Max’s house, Guerin opened the door and went straight in without knocking, with Alex following behind. They found Max on the couch in the living room, looking exasperated while Liz kept telling him to just stay where he was and let her work.

And now that Alex knew that Max wasn’t in the middle of some awful stomach flu, but had just had surgery… the paleness of his complexion and lines of pain on his face were all the more concerning.

“You doing all right, man?” he asked, settling next to him on the couch while Guerin went into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m good. Michael told you what really happened?”

Alex nodded. He thought about mentioning the nightmares, but still wasn’t sure he wanted to share that. Max looked like he had enough to deal with anyway.

Guerin came by with a tray of raw meat, heading outside towards the grill. “I’m gonna make sure these get done right.”

Alex eyed the way he was still limping. “Want some help?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Entertain Max for a while. I think Liz is getting tired of him.”

“Am not!” they heard from the kitchen.

He lowered his voice for just so it wouldn’t carry to the kitchen. “She totally is.”

Max watched the door close behind him before turning back to Alex.

“I know he’s less okay than he’s letting on, even if he jokes like that to make me believe otherwise.”

Alex stared in the direction of the glass door, watching Guerin limp around getting the grill ready. He’d worn his own pants today over his newly bandaged knees. Alex could tell it was more painful that way, but he hadn’t wanted to wear shorts and let Max see his wounds. He’d even opted not to rebandage his hands so as not to call attention to the little cuts there.

“He doesn’t seem to like the attention.”

Max hummed thoughtfully. “Honestly, I think he’s just used to not getting what he needs.”

At Alex’s sharp look, the other man continued, looking guiltier by the second. “I was a stupid kid growing up. I was so wrapped up in my own stuff that I missed a lot of what was going on with him.”

“You were kids, man. I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

“Well I haven’t been much better at it as an adult. He keeps his walls up with me. All the time. Can’t say I blame him, though. I’ve been a shitty brother.”

Alex squeezed Max’s shoulder, unable to think of anything to say that didn’t sound like some sort of empty platitude. 

After lunch they talked a little about Max’s surgery and the story they were telling the rest of the world so Max could get a little time off work. Then Liz went into a brief, but complicated scientific explanation about their particular physiology and how it differed from human physiology. Most of which, Alex didn’t exactly follow.

What it boiled down to though, was that the three of them were different on a cellular level. And something in their biology allowed them to interact differently with the world around them. For Max, it manifested mostly in electromagnetic energy, Isobel was able to have some sort of effect on brain chemistry, and Guerin could, in his words, “move shit” with his mind.

Of course, Liz’s explanation was a bit more complex than that, but he liked Guerin’s better. 

Eventually, Liz excused herself to run home and grab more things she needed - apparently she figured it’d be best to do it while Max was occupied with guests.

Guerin decided he’d do the dishes, refusing to let Alex help, despite his protests. 

“You’re a guest, Alex.”

Technically, he supposed he was more a guest here than Guerin was, but it felt like maybe there was a deeper reason for his retreat into the kitchen while he and Max sat outside by the fire pit.

“I think he wants you to be able to ask me the questions you might be afraid to ask him,” Max offered as an explanation. 

He had to think for a minute. What was he afraid to ask Guerin? Nothing alien-related immediately sprang to mind. 

“Honestly, the only thing I can think of… I’m not sure you’d know the answer to.” Alex hesitated, wondering if it was really something he should bring up with Max. Though he figured if anyone knew Guerin well enough to know, it’d be him or Isobel.

“I just wonder why he changed so much after high school. He used to be so - I don’t know. He was a good student, he followed the rules. He was so much more…open, I guess.” He swallowed. “Actually, forget it. I guess I know why it happened. I just wish…”

He’d never wished that night hadn’t happened, but he’d wished a million times that it’d gone differently. That his father hadn’t come home, or that they’d gone someplace else, or that they’d separated just a few minutes earlier.

“He told you about Rosa then?”

His thoughts about that day in the shed came to a screeching halt. “What? What do you mean? Rosa? What does Rosa have to do with anything?”

“He didn’t, then. Damn.” Max suddenly looked more tired than before. “I’ll give you the cliff notes version because… it’s a long story.”

Alex nodded, still confused.

“Back in high school, something was really wrong with Isobel, but it took us a while to realize it. Something… happened. The night Rosa died… Isobel called to us, telepathically. We rushed out to the mine and found Rosa and those two girls dead. It looked like Isobel had done it - she hadn’t. It wasn’t her fault, but at the time, we thought it was. Isobel, meanwhile, didn’t have any idea what had happened. So the three of us… we were so scared of what would happen to us… we covered the whole thing up. Michael told Isobel that he’d killed the girls just so she wouldn’t hate herself. And then he… everything changed for us that day. I was gonna be a writer and I became a cop instead, hoping I could… I don’t know, help try to fix things we’d broken. And Michael… he just gave up on everything. College, friends, family…”

Max trailed off looking more broken than Alex had ever seen him.

“Remember how close Michael and I were in high school? We barely spoke after that night. I pushed him and everyone else away, he pushed back, acting like he didn’t care about anything anymore. He hated what had happened. He hated what he’d had to do. It changed him.”

Alex was startled to feel the tickle of tears on his cheeks. He blinked and wiped them away, lost in thought. To face something like that at 17… 

And it’d happened the same night they’d…

Alex scrubbed roughly at his face. Yeah… he could see how a night like that might drive someone to drink. And to give up. 

And what Max didn’t know was that after all that had happened, Guerin had come to him a few days later. He’d just wanted to sit with him a little while, he’d said. And Alex had told him it wasn’t a good idea. He’d been too afraid that his dad would somehow find out. He remembered that Guerin had pleaded with him… he’d told him they could meet anywhere he wanted, any time, as long as Michael could just sit with him a while.

But Alex had been too afraid of what his father might do. The sound the hammer had made breaking Guerin’s hand had been too fresh in his mind. He’d blamed himself, and he’d decided to punish himself - or at least that’s what he thought. 

But he’d punished Guerin.

Alex stood up. “I’m gonna take a walk. Just to process. Don’t get up, okay.” He forced himself to smile down at him. “I don’t want to get on Liz’s bad side.”

He walked towards the opposite side of the house, the open skyline giving him a perfect view of the horizon. It was amazing how beautiful it could be out here, the deep oranges, pinks, and blues painted across the sky, while inside he felt like he was dripping with dark, dismal colors. 

He took a deep breath, searching inside himself for that hope he’d felt once upon a time. Some days, days like these, it was harder to find than others. Days when he realized how badly he’d fucked up.

He’d only been a kid, too. He knew that. He knew that a lot of what he’d done, a lot of the choices he’d made had been about survival. 

But then why did it feel so shitty?

He turned at the sound of Guerin’s voice calling his name. He forced a smile as the other man came limping around the corner of the house.

“What’s going on?” Guerin asked as soon as he came near.

“Nothing. Just enjoying the view.” He knew Guerin would know it was a lie - it was obvious that he could’ve enjoyed it just fine seated across from Max. Feeling this raw, though… he didn’t want to talk about it.

Happily, he chose not to push, and they walked together back around towards where he’d left Max.

Liz was just pulling up again, so they opted to say good bye and head back to the cabin.

On the way there, Guerin brought up going back to the airstream again.

“The place is wrecked and you’re in no shape to clean it up right now. Just… can’t you just stay at the cabin? At least until your knees heal up a bit?”

Guerin’s face was turned toward the window, and his answer was quiet. “I’m not some broken toy for you to fix, Alex.”

“Damn it, Guerin, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to do anything more than help out a friend in need. Why won’t you let me?”

He saw the other man slowly nodding out of the corner of his eye. “Is that what I am to you, Manes? Your friend?”

He knew it was a loaded question. He knew Guerin wanted it to mean the worst possible thing it could mean. Still, Alex found that he couldn’t be anything other than honest.

“Yeah, Guerin. You’re my friend. I hope you always will be.”


	7. Chapter 7

Back at the cabin, Michael laid on the couch, staring up at the ceiling while he tried to sort through the mess going on inside of him. 

The pain wasn’t too bad because he’d drank acetone at Max’s house, sneaking sips here and there whenever the others weren’t looking. Unfortunately, the type of pain he was feeling in his chest wasn’t eased by chemical remedies. 

He sighed deeply, then started working on getting himself up off the couch again. Alex had retreated to his room, so Michael figured it was as good a time as any to try to get his pants off and check his knees over. 

He unbuckled and pushed his pants down, feeling a little dizzy as he leaned over to try to get them down to his ankles without bending. He didn’t know if it was the acetone, or just the stress of coming out to Alex as an alien, but he’d been feeling queasy for hours.

He was glad Alex knew now. Honestly, he should be feeling grateful that the other man had taken it so well. That he hadn’t laughed in his face, or run off to tell the military, or any number of things Michael had always feared.

But instead he just felt so… hollow. Growing up, Max and Isobel had always had each other. For whatever reason, they’d always shared a deeper connection with each other than they ever had with Michael. He’d always wondered if maybe something had happened to his other half. Maybe he hadn’t been meant to be the third wheel - the one that didn’t fit. Maybe there had been a fourth with them - his other half, his twin - and that one hadn’t survived, so he’d been left alone.

And now… Isobel and Max were STILL connected, but Isobel also had Noah, and Max had Liz. 

And Michael still didn’t even have one person. 

He finally managed to toe his pants the rest of the way off, and then he sat back on the couch, pulling his feet up onto the table to survey the damage. The bandage on his left knee looked okay, but the right one was pink in the center - he must’ve bled a little more.

He hadn’t managed to get his socks off, but he figured that was for the best. His foot felt hot and throbbing - probably swollen. 

Tears sprang to his eyes. Fuck. It was only late afternoon and it felt like it’d been a really long day. A long decade.

He reached down with shaking hands and grabbed a bottle of acetone out of his bag, uncapping it to gulp some of it down.

So of course that’s how Alex found him when he came back into the living room: sitting on the couch in his underwear, a bottle of acetone in his hand and tears filling his eyes.

He closed his eyes in resignation as Alex approached.

“Hey, what’s… are you in a lot of pain?” came Alex’s concerned voice from nearby.

He snorted. “Nah.” 

No more than usual, he thought. You’d think he’d be used to it by now.

He couch dipped beside him. “Come on, let me help you.”

Michael flinched away. “You know what… I can’t right now. I can’t do this, Alex. Please just…”

He wiped his face with his sleeve and then leaned forward to dig through his bag for the bandages Kyle had left. 

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.”

“Great, then you can go back to your room.”

Suddenly Alex’s hand was covering his. “Let me help, Michael.”

He stilled, breath catching in his throat. He wanted to be angry. Angry that Alex was calling him a friend one minute and then acting like he cared more deeply the next. 

He wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t summon the energy for it anymore. Now he just felt… alone. And it was sharp and bitter and painful… and every time Alex got close to him just to pull back again he had to feel it all over again. He didn’t know how much more he could take before it broke him. If it hadn’t already.

He shook off Alex’s hand and turned to look him in the eye. “Alex… I think I’m done.”

He saw the words have an immediate effect on Alex’s face, the other man drawing back and closing off. And despite everything, despite how shitty he felt and how bad it hurt, he didn’t want to hurt Alex. Not like this.

He spoke haltingly, wanting Alex to understand even though he wasn’t sure he even knew how to say it. 

“Look… if you want to be friends… I need some distance. I can’t… I can’t do this thing where we’re friends but you’re so close. It feels like something more whenever you’re… when you’re… I don’t know. Inviting me to stay with you and trying to help me like this.”

He closed his eyes and turned away, feeling too raw, too exposed. “It hurts too much being this close, but not being with you.”

“Okay.” Alex’s voice was quiet. “I get it.”

Michael nodded abruptly. Now he just had to figure out where he was going to stay… Alex was right, his airstream was wrecked. Maybe… maybe he’d have to stay with Max after all. If he and Liz were sharing the bed, he could just stay on the couch. If he only came over late at night when it was time to sleep, it’d probably even be manageable. 

“Michael, I don’t - I think I fucked up.”

The sound of Alex’s voice brought his thought process to a grinding halt. He turned to look at him in confusion.

“Just let me explain, okay? This is…” Alex trailed off as he stood and paced to the other side of the room.

“I never wanted you to date other people, you know? I just… I thought I was doing the right thing, telling you that. I couldn’t ask you to wait for me, it wasn’t fair. But that’s what I really wanted - I wanted you to wait for me.” He scoffed. “Pretty selfish, right?”

Alex turned and pinned Michael to the couch with a look that Michael couldn’t decipher.

“I love you, Michael Guerin. I have for years. But I gotta be honest… I’m messed up. I thought taking a step back… letting you go… I thought it was the only way I could work on what I needed to work on without hurting you in the process.

“But, I guess I fucked up again because I hurt you anyway.”

Michael could barely breathe with the enormity of everything Alex had just said. Alex loved him… he couldn’t figure out how that could be true, not the way things had always been between them. 

He knew Alex loved being _with_ him. He knew Alex loved the time they spent together alone, when they weren’t busy pissing each other off and pushing each other away. But to hear that Alex loved him… that was almost impossible to process.

“I don’t understand. If you love me… why? Why do you always leave?”

Alex crossed the room again and sat next to him. “I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong things are inside me…”

“Come on…”

“No, listen. You know my dad, the raging asshole? Some part of me deep down actually wanted him to love me, like, for the longest time. And a big part of me hated myself because who I am has never been enough for either of my parents. I had no one growing up. No one. And honestly, all I’ve ever wanted was to have someone love me. Just love me for me - for who I am.”

Michael shook his head, swallowing back whatever was trying to crawl up his throat. “But you have that. I loved you. I loved you back then, and I love you now.”

Alex smiled, but it was a sad smile, full of regret. “Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me, seriously. I never liked Roswell until I found you. But Michael… I just… How can I ever love you properly when I can’t even love myself? I wanted to figure that out, you know? I wanted to be… whole… for you.”

Understanding filled Michael with warmth and a feeling of desperation at the same time. Hearing that Alex genuinely loved him was more than he’d really allowed himself to hope for, but at the same time, he knew what it was like to feel unloved. He knew what it was like to question your own worth because everyone else seemed to question it too. 

And he didn’t know how to help him.

“Where-” Michael cleared his throat. “Where does that leave us then?”

Alex covered his hand again. “Michael, you… you’re the best man I know. Let me… let me protect you for once, okay? You’re so busy protecting everyone else all the time, absorbing all the terrible shit people throw at you, let me be there for you. Let me help you.”

Alex paused as if wanting to let that sink in, then before Michael could protest, he continued.

“And I don’t just mean with your knees, or your busted foot, or having a place to stay. I’d like to be the person you lean on. If you’ll let me. I'm tired of trying to stay away. I don't want to be away from you."

Michael’s head was spinning. It almost felt like a dream. Not the typical, terrible dreams he normally had at night, but the ones he used to have during the day. When he’d imagine what it would be like if things worked out for him. 

But the reality was that he actually had no idea what that would even look like. His dreams about an imaginary good future were always vague because he didn’t know enough to add in the detail.

He was almost afraid to admit it. Afraid he’d jinx whatever was happening here.

“I’m not sure I know how…”

But Alex didn’t look upset by the admission. In fact, he only smiled and touched Michael’s cheek, leaning in to bring their foreheads together.

“We’ll figure it out together. Help each other. I don’t want to do this without you. Not anymore.”

Michael nodded his head gently against Alex’s.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends what I originally intended to be a one-shot!
> 
> It's kind of open-ended, intentionally, because I didn't want to bore anyone with an "and they lived happily ever after" wind down.
> 
> And sorry, but no smut. Author is ace, so totally incapable of writing sexy times. :)


End file.
